


Fantasy Four Twenty Blaze It

by inverts



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverts/pseuds/inverts
Summary: The one where Taako and Kravitz get high.





	Fantasy Four Twenty Blaze It

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a week ago, forgot about it, and then remembered that today was 4/20 and I would never have a better excuse to post it. That said, it's very pointless, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, not to get too after-school special up in here, but like, if you're smoking pot then please get high responsibly; make sure you're with friends you trust, and don't do something like drive while high. Shit I could barely fucking _walk_ , I can't imagine doing something like _driving_ , so please play it safe and wait til you sober up.

Kravitz steps into the hallway outside of Taako’s door, glancing around to either side to confirm that his entry has gone unnoticed. As expected, Merle and Magnus are either in their own rooms, somewhere else in the living quarters, or another part of the Bureau entirely, perhaps helping with preparations for the large, celebratory party that appears to be underway. Kravitz doesn’t much care—it’s not his victory, and it’s not his party. What matters to Kravitz is that Taako’s teammates are not here, and Taako is. He tugs the bottom hem of his suit jacket to straighten it, and then he knocks on Taako’s door.

… He knocks again, when there’s no response. He knows Taako’s there, and not asleep; before opening a portal, he can, after all, check where it’s leading. And he had started to arrange for his portal to open up in Taako’s room, but that had felt... invasive. After all, Taako had already holed himself up in his room; if he wanted to be alone, after everything, Kravitz wasn’t going to suddenly appear in his personal space, unannounced and uninvited. So here he is in the hallway, wondering if the lack of answer means he should just leave.

“Oh shit,” comes Taako’s voice, before Kravitz can lose his nerve and retreat back to the astral plane, “thought I fuckin’ imagined that. Door’s open, hombre!” Muffled through the door, Kravitz can hear the elf snickering. He’s somewhat perplexed, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s failed to catch a joke around Taako, so he pays the snickering little mind as he opens the door and steps inside.

Taako is reclined in his bed, his torso propped up on a large pile of pillows, and he’s grinning widely. “Kravitz!” he exclaims. “What are you even doing here, my man? Are you—are you fucking real?” He laughs, then, hard enough that he winds up sitting up entirely. 

Kravitz shuts the door behind him. He feels the little ache in his forehead that means his eyebrows are furrowed. It’s not unusual for Taako to crack jokes and then get a chuckle out of his own sense of humour, but this seems excessive, even for him. Kravitz isn’t going to begrudge him having a good time, though, not after what they’ve all been through.

There’s precious little floorspace that’s not covered in books or wands or dirty laundry, and Kravitz picks his way carefully through the room to make his way closer to Taako. Not too close, though—he doesn’t want to loom over the elf, who hasn’t made any move to stand or even sit on the edge of the bed. “I know this is an unannounced visit,” Kravitz begins, and Taako, still snorting with mirth, waves a hand dismissively to stop him.

“I don’t mean, like, do you exist, I  _ know _ you’re a real guy—” he stops to snicker, mumbling in falsetto, “I’m a real boy!” before he goes on, gesturing, “I just mean, like, is this happening? Are you here right now?” 

Kravitz takes note of what’s in Taako’s hand as he waves it around to emphasize his words. The little glass pipe is, thankfully, empty, or else it’d be dropping ash all over Taako’s bed, but it doesn’t take a very high insight check to find the other piece of the puzzle; on the nightstand, a little pouch is turned on its side, spilling out small, dull green, dried out leaves. “Taako,” Kravitz says, incredulous, “are you high?”

“I am  _ so _ fucking stoned right now,” the elf confirms, grinning lazily as he falls back into the pillows. He giggles, sagging into all the piled up bedding, his body loose and lax in a way that Kravitz has never before observed from him. “I still got a bunch,” he says, raising his empty hand and gesturing idly. “You wanna?”

Kravitz stiffens, feels the tendons and muscles of his corpse lock up—if Taako were to hold his hand now, the temperature wouldn’t be the only unpleasant factor. “I,” he starts, “I don’t think—”

“Because I can’t be the only one high if you stick around,” Taako says, pouting up at the ceiling, too limp and boneless to even raise his head to look at Kravitz. “That’s like. Nah. You gotta be high too, or it’ll be weird later.”

“I can—come back later—” Kravitz tries, and at that, Taako  _ does _ manage to get his neck and shoulders functioning enough so he can look at Kravitz. 

“My dude,” Taako says, and then again, “My, dude. My man. My squeeze. K-dog. Spooky scary skeleton.” He giggles at that one, and then seems to remember he had a purpose for lifting his head to talk to Kravitz. “Have you like. Never smoked before?”

Before Kravitz can answer, Taako adds, “Like, no pressure though. Sometimes a guy doesn’t wanna. Not into the whole altered mind thing. I get it. You can come back later,” he assures. “Just like. Not too soon. You gotta wait like a full time, not a baby time.”

Kravitz can’t help it. “A baby time?”

“Yeah,” Taako nods. “None of that like ten or fifteen minutes shit. Gonna need at least a couple hours to come down from  _ this_, kemosabe.” He tries to muffle his laughter in his hand, snorting and sputtering and snickering. “I took like,  _ way _ too many hits. Used to passing it back and forth, you know?” His ears drop, gaze drifting to the side, expression going wistful. “Would you believe that Lup and I learned Produce Flame just so we wouldn’t go through so many matches?”

He falls back into the pillows, arms splayed out, and exhales loudly. “Shit,” he says, and then rolls over toward the nightstand. It takes him visible effort to get himself actually seated upright, and he keeps listing to the side, but he’s coordinated enough to reach out and pinch a few leaves between thumb and forefinger, loading them into the bowl of the pipe.

Kravitz gingerly sits down next to Taako, perhaps purposefully placing himself on the side Taako keeps leaning toward so that the elf won’t simply topple right over. He doesn’t know much about Lup, save her importance to Taako, but he does know about death and loss. He knows companionship is  _ supposed _ to help, even though he thinks Magnus or Merle would probably be better suited to the task. Taako looks over at him, eyebrows raised but eyes still half-lidded. “My spooky dude,” he says, “I thought you were gonna come back later.”

“When you guessed that I’ve never done this before,” Kravitz admits, quiet and reluctant, “you were right.” He’s prepared for Taako to laugh at his inexperience; for all that he’s seen every inch of the globe, traveled all of this plane and the next, and captured bounties who’d been nobles, who’d been soldiers, who’d been thieves or assassins or simply regular people with too much fear and determination to die when they were supposed to—for all that he’s observed in his centuries in the Raven Queen’s service, more than a hundred adventurers can even  _ dream _ of, for all of that, his own lived experiences pale in comparison. He’d already been an uninteresting, straight-laced guy even  _ before _ he died, and he knows Taako finds his work ethic boring at best. Against all expectations, however, Taako’s expression doesn’t change, and he remains simply attentive as Kravitz speaks, instead of scornful or judgmental. So Kravitz continues, “I’m also not certain if I—if this will even have any  _ effect _ on me, as I am now, but.” He shrugs. 

“Ooooh, right,” Taako murmurs. “Dead guy.”

“In the flesh.”

“The flesh death,” Taako snickers. 

“That’s—awful? Please, never say that again.”

Taako’s snickering grows to outright laughing, and then he has to stop himself from dropping the crushed leaves right out of the pipe as his body shakes with mirth. “Okay,” he breathes, grin wide. “Okay. I’m gonna show you how to do this.”

Kravitz is almost impressed at how much coordination Taako still possesses, to explain each step as he casts Produce Flame and summons up a little lick of fire at his fingertips, holding it over the bowl of the pipe and simultaneously inhaling deeply. Several long seconds after that, he exhales, hazy white smoke coming from his nose and open mouth. He smiles over at Kravitz, and offers the pipe.

Kravitz shifts the pipe in his fingers, holding it unsteadily to his mouth. His own Produce Flame hovers over the leaves, and he steadies his hand, preparing to inhale. “Sips,” Taako tells him. “Get some air in there, too.” He nods, minutely, and breathes.

Seconds later, he’s coughing furiously. His throat is  _ hot_, and he wonders if it burns like this for Taako as well, or if it’s the contrast against his own cold body that sears his esophagus like this. Taako presses a glass of water into his hands, and Kravitz drinks gratefully. 

“That was adorable, homie,” says Taako. “Don’t fucking die, okay?”

Kravitz levels a glare at him, and the elf only laughs. 

“You wanna try again?”

  
  
  


It’s half an hour later, Taako’s had to offer him several more glasses of water, and Kravitz has nothing to show for it but an ache in his throat and a sense of disappointment. Taako’s tried to give him advice on how to actually take in the smoke all the way down to his lungs; he’s also tried lighting the pipe first, inhaling and then passing it over to Kravitz while the leaves are still alight. But Kravitz feels no different now from when he first arrived on this plane, save perhaps a little frustrated with himself. “I don’t think this is going to work,” he admits, standing up.

“Whoah there, where are you off to?” asks Taako. He’s gone horizontal again (“My feet are like,  _ way _ too heavy, and nothing is staying still? Taako’s good down here.”) and he squints up at Kravitz, one hand sluggishly pawing at the space where Kravitz had been sitting moments ago. The pipe has been set aside on the nightstand so that Taako doesn’t knock it over as he rolls about on his bed. 

“You implied you wouldn’t be comfortable if I remained here while sober,” Kravitz reminds him, gently, regretfully.

“Pschaw!” Taako brings his other arm up so that both hands are waving idly in the air, aimlessly rotating at the wrist. “You tried, my dude. Gave it your best shot. If you’re bored, you can head out, but you don’t have to, I guess.”

Kravitz considers. The unguarded expression on Taako’s face, the way he’s sprawled carelessly across the mattress instead of purposefully presenting himself in the most flattering pose possible—once more, Kravitz feels like he’s invading, trespassing where he doesn’t belong. And yet—Taako’s dropped one hand to invitingly pat the spot on the bed previously occupied by Kravitz, and he’s gazing up at him so imploringly. ”You’re sure you don’t mind?” Kravitz asks. Then, he corrects himself, “You’re sure you  _ won’t _ mind, later?”

“You’ve already seen it all, bubeleh,” says Taako, doing his best to shrug while lying down. “Now get the fuck down here; your hair looks  _ so great _ right now and I can’t fucking reach you up there.”

Kravitz chuckles and obliges. It takes a bit of maneuvering; he’d assumed Taako wanted him back where he was, but the elf whines and tugs at his shoulders and pulls him to lie on the mattress as well. His eyes keep fluttering closed as he runs his fingers through Kravitz’s dark hair, and a satisfied smile creeps across his face. Kravitz fights back a shiver when Taako’s fingertips ghost over the back of his neck, and Taako scoots closer and does it again.

He lets his gaze wander over Taako’s face, his long eyelashes and many freckles and parted lips. It feels like his vision keeps sliding to the side, though, or as though Taako’s face is in sharp focus while the rest of the world blurs. Taako blinks his eyes open, and his pupils are bold and his sclera are tinted red and Kravitz finds himself getting a little lost in the colours and edges of Taako’s irises.

“Oh,” he mumbles, as realization slowly settles in, the weight of it pinning him to the mattress. “Probably a good thing I didn’t go, after all.” Taako raises one eyebrow, and Kravitz admits, “I think it’s working.”

Taako bursts into laughter, and Kravitz joins in, the two of them clutching each other as they gasp for breath. “I got Death high!” Taako crows, and Kravitz laughs louder, laughs so much he feels wetness at the edges of his eyes.

“That’s not even that funny!” he chokes out, and Taako howls with glee. 

“I got Death fucking  _ stoned_,” the elf giggles proudly. “I toked it up with the Grim Reaper!”

Incorrigible, Kravitz thinks, or maybe says, but he’s grinning. He can’t seem to stop.

“I bet that’s not even a word.” Ah. He must have said it out loud, then.

“It absolutely is.”

“Whatever,” Taako dismisses, scooting closer still, wiggling his way across the mattress until there’s almost no space between them. Kravitz finds he doesn’t mind this, as Taako presses against him, all but shoving his face into the nape of Kravitz’s neck, and Kravitz inhales sharply— _involuntarily_ , not the usual, purposeful activation of his respiratory system to have air in his lungs when he needs to speak. 

“Fuck,” Kravitz breathes out. He’s aware of his body in a way he hasn’t been in years, even as his senses work to deceive him, his vision unfocused and slipping off anything he tries to focus on. His limbs feel heavy, blood and muscles and skin tugging at his bones, and it’s no wonder Taako’s had so much trouble staying even a little bit vertical. Everything is dream-like, fuzzy at the edges, but if he focuses, he knows this is really happening—he really is here, on the material plane, in bed with this ridiculous elf, as high as the fucking moon base they’re on. No, no, he must be higher, if he’s already  _ on _ the moon base but he’s  _ high_. He wants to giggle, wants to share the joke with Taako, but the elf is nosing at the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button so he can pull the fabric aside, and Kravitz is abruptly aware of his body in a very  _ different _ way.

“You’re like… silk sheets,” Taako mumbles into his skin. “You’re so smooth, and you start out cold, but if I stay here, you’ll heat right up.”

Kravitz can barely formulate a response; all he manages is a strangled, “Is that so?”

“Would I fuckin lie to you?”

All Kravitz can do is laugh, glad for the absurdity to distract him from the heat where Taako’s skin brushes against his own. Taako grumbles at him to stay still, tightening his arms around him. 

“Man,” the elf mumbles, “Didn’t even ask why you showed up today.”

Kravitz is grateful that Taako can’t see his face, because his cheeks are strangely hot, and he knows they must be flush with colour. He’d had an excuse ready, too, but it’s fled his mind, along with his ability to do things like stand up, or remember if the past minute actually happened or not. It makes much more sense to him, now, why Taako had initially asked him if he was real.

“I wanted to see you,” he says. “I knew you survived, but I…” He can’t think of what else to say, how to explain his fear, the terror of isolation, the urge to confirm that Taako was, truly, alive and well. Weakly, he repeats, “I wanted to see you.” 

“Hell yeah,” Taako breathes, tugging again at his shirt, and if Kravitz had thought his throat burned when he first inhaled the smoke, now his neck is  _ molten _ where Taako’s lips have pressed against his skin. It’s possible he makes an absolutely embarrassing noise, but he doesn’t have any thoughts to spare on whether or not he’s making needy little sounds at something as little as this, as Taako squirms and shifts to get a better angle, kissing and nipping at Kravitz’s neck. He reaches the contour of Kravitz’s jaw and keeps going, leaving a sloppy, wet, scalding trail in his wake, until his lips find Kravitz’s. 

There’s no denying that this time, Kravitz does whine; Taako bites at his bottom lip, and he realizes he’s not only breathing, he’s  _ gasping_, breath catching in his throat.

Taako pulls back, and Kravitz manages to open his eyes to look at the elf. “Sorry,” Taako says, and before Kravitz can reassure him that no apologies are necessary, he adds, “Can’t actually get it up when I’m high, so it’s just gonna be makin’ out for now.”

Kravitz chuckles, breathless, and leans his head in so his forehead rests against Taako’s. “That’s fine,” he whispers, not trusting his voice. “That’s more than fine.”

“Sweet.” Taako tilts his head and swoops back in, catching Kravtiz’s lower lip between his teeth once more and this time running his tongue over it, and Kravitz whimpers and lets the elf take the lead.

  
  
  


He loses track of how long it’s been—the linear passage of time on the material plane has always vexed him, and he has far more important things to focus on. But when the door to Taako’s room flies open, and Magnus appears, he thinks perhaps he should have paid a little more attention to such details.

“Taako!” Magnus yells, as the door slams into the wall, bouncing from the force. “The big dinner’s in like half an hour, why aren’t you answering your stone of far-speech, everyone wants to congra… tu… late…..”

Magnus’s voice dies in his throat, and Taako lifts his head, frowning. His face is red, his lips are swollen, and his hair is disheveled, probably from the  _ literal Grim Reaper _ running his fingers through it. Under him, Kravitz has gone very still, eyes wide and fixed on Magnus. Despite Kravitz’s darker skin tone, Magnus still easily notes the blush on his cheeks, as well as several red marks dotting his neck. 

Magnus thanks Istus they’re both still basically fully clothed, unbuttoned collars aside. 

“That’s great,” says Taako, in a voice that actually says ‘I don’t care.’ “But, see, the thing is, I’m finally coming down off my high.” He grins, wiggling his hips, and Magnus can  _ see _ Kravitz bite down on the noise he was about to make. “So you can let everyone know I’m going to be fashionably late.”

“G… Got it,” Magnus manages, backing up out of the room and pulling the door closed as he goes. 

Not fast enough, as before the door latches shut, he still hears, “Now lemme hear that voice, Krav. We’re givin’ those lungs of yours a workout today!”

**Author's Note:**

> sorta implied this fic to be post-canon and it's also sort under the assumption that lup doesn't get an auto revive but it's my headcanon that after this taako gets a hold of one of those fucking cloning pods and cooks her up a body one way or another
> 
> which is technically necromancy, probably, which would get him another bounty in kravitz's book, probably, which is another fic i'd love to write one day, lmao.


End file.
